Days later and I'm still obsessing over my dear sons name. My husband, Stu, has decided he doesn't like Phoenix however if I feel strongly about it then I can change it if I wish. However he will still call him Ezzy, probably not Phoenix. This didn't sit right for me, everyone told me to just do it but it didn't feel right that he would go by different names, how would we introduce him to people? I don't know, I just didn't like it.
Days go past and I can't stop thinking about it. The name Phoenix STILL keeps popping up EVERYWHERE! Holidays, road names. You name it, it was everywhere I looked. IT'S A SIGN!!! I was being told! I felt inside that this should be his name but it just wasn't going to work out. Would I feel bad/guilty for ever? I hated this.
Whilst I'm there obsessing over his name. My beautiful baby boy became poorly. And he got worse and worse it seemed. We were referred to the hospital, many tests were done on him. Including test for Meningitis. I was dying inside, I had to stay strong to Stu as he sat helplessly at home with Indiana, upset on the phone worried for our son.
The name Phoenix became more significant, or more so the meaning behind it. 'Rise from the ashes'. However this time it was negative. Was this the reason why the 'sign' kept appearing?
As I lay there in the ward I kept hearing Ezra's name being spoke about in conversations, they were talking about how great he was doing and how beautiful he was. Of course I already knew this but hearing it from a professional was lovely, you know, I much prefer to hear a compliment when that person isn't aware I'm listening!
Anyway, his name was up on the board along with all the other poorly children. I was beginning to fall back in love with it. I'm not sure if it was because nothing else mattered at that time but my sons health? I don't know, but it sounded and looked good to me!
Finally as I was chatting with the doctor taking care of Ezra she mentioned to me how Ezra isn't the only Ezra English and that in fact there is another little boy born in 2005 called Ezra English. WOW! How crazy was that.
As Ezra began to get better and it was diagnosed that he had bronchiolitis I knew inside that my son was Ezra Sydney English. And I was proud to say I LOVED his name. I was proud of him, I was proud how well he done when being prodded and poked by all them needles.
I have to say thank you to everyo
ne who supported me on my original post and I hope you don't think this was just being over the top. In was generally a big issue, I don't tend to be public and my inner thoughts so the fact I made it so public shows how I felt about it. Everyone was so kind and supportive, thank you.